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Rebirth of the Forgotten Worker
Chapter 3: Welcome to Hell—It’s Just Like My Old Job, But Worse

Chapter 3: Welcome to Hell—It’s Just Like My Old Job, But Worse

PART 1: NO BREAKS, NO BENEFITS, AND NO WAY OUT

Aya Kurose, former corporate slave, now officially designated as Worker Ant #10284, had made a horrifying realization:

She had been reincarnated into a 24/7, unpaid, labor-intensive, no-promotion, no-vacation, no-retirement job.

Again.

If reincarnation was supposed to be a second chance, then fate had just spat in her face and kicked her down a flight of stairs.

Aya trudged through the dark, suffocating tunnels of the colony, her six spindly legs moving in perfect sync with the thousands of other workers. Not because she wanted to. Oh no. Her body was moving on its own, like she had been pre-programmed to be the perfect little drone.

As she carried her hundredth crumb of the day, a single thought reverberated through her mind, each word laced with despair:

WHY?! WHY DID I GET REBORN INTO ANOTHER SOUL-SUCKING JOB?!

No freedom. No weekends. No goddamn coffee.

Just ceaseless labor, from the moment she cracked out of her egg until the inevitable day she worked herself to death. At least in her past life, she could daydream about quitting or flipping off her manager. Here?

There was no resignation letter. No HR department. No escape.

She was trapped in the ultimate wage-slave simulator with zero benefits and a high probability of being eaten if she so much as slacked off.

Aya internally screamed.

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PART 2: THE OFFICE JOB WAS BETTER THAN THIS?!

Aya barely had time to mourn her past life before she was thrown straight into mandatory worker training.

And by training, she meant:

1. Get in line.

2. Follow the older worker ants.

3. Do what they do.

4. Shut up and work.

The older workers wasted no time explaining anything. They simply shoved her and the other hatchlings forward, flicking their antennae with short, sharp bursts of pheromone signals that translated to:

“Move.”

“Work.”

“Don’t fall behind.”

Aya scuttled forward, her tiny legs fumbling as she tried to keep up.

What are we even doing?!

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She soon got her answer.

The moment she stepped into a wider chamber, her entire world moved.

No. Not the world. The floor.

Thousands. Of ants.

Workers carrying food. Soldiers patrolling the tunnels. Nurses tending to newly laid eggs. It was an endless flood of mindless, obedient bodies, all moving with mechanical precision.

Aya had seen corporate offices during peak hours, but this?

This was corporate hell on steroids.

The worst part?

Nobody stopped. Nobody complained. Nobody questioned.

Just like her old job.

At least back then, she had access to internet memes. Here?

Her only source of entertainment was watching ants bump into each other.

Aya wanted to flip a desk, but unfortunately, ANTS DON’T HAVE HANDS.

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PART 3: BASIC TRAINING—OR, HOW TO BREAK A NEW EMPLOYEE IMMEDIATELY

Aya barely had time to process her existential crisis before a burly, no-nonsense worker ant shoved her toward the supply line and sent a new pheromone order:

“Carry food.”

That was it. No explanation. No demonstration. Just “Pick this up and go.”

Aya blinked. Or, at least, she would have, if ants had eyelids.

Her first task seemed simple enough. She just had to carry a dead beetle leg.

Except for one problem:

IT WAS TEN TIMES HER BODY WEIGHT.

Who in their right mind thought this was an acceptable workload for a newborn?!

Still, with the soul-crushing obedience of someone used to corporate drudgery, Aya heaved the chunk of beetle onto her back and took her first step.

Her wobbly legs trembled.

Her fragile exoskeleton groaned.

And after exactly three steps—

FLIP.

She tipped over like a pathetic, upside-down turtle.

Aya flailed. Her six stupid legs twitched uselessly in the air.

The other workers ignored her. The burly trainer, however, flicked his antennae in a very clear message:

“Disappointment.”

Aya felt it.

Deep. In. Her. Soul.

She had just been born, and she had already failed corporate orientation.

If she still had human tear ducts, she would be crying.

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PART 4: SMELL-BASED COMMUNICATION IS A NIGHTMARE

As if things couldn’t get worse, Aya soon realized something even more horrifying:

She couldn’t speak.

No words. No sighs. No frustrated groans.

Just pheromones.

And let her tell you—IT SUCKED.

In her past life, she could complain. Sarcastically text coworkers. Scream into her pillow.

Here?

The first time she panicked over dropping a crumb, she accidentally blasted out an “ALERT” signal.

Immediately, twenty fully armed soldier ants stormed in.

“INTRUDER?! WHERE?!”

“ARE WE UNDER ATTACK?!”

Aya, who was just trying to carry a piece of bread, stood there, twitching awkwardly.

The soldiers stared at her.

Then left without a word.

The shame burned her soul.

Day one, and she had already become the office idiot.

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PART 5: THE FINAL REALIZATION—THIS IS HER LIFE NOW

After a full day of humiliation, exhaustion, and the soul-crushing revelation that she had no rights as a worker, Aya finally understood one thing:

She was never getting out of this.

There were no managers to negotiate with. No HR department. No way to even scream.

Just work.

Forever.

As she dragged her exhausted, brittle body to a quiet corner of the tunnels, desperately clinging to the last remnants of her sanity, she let out a small, pitiful chitter.

This is hell.

No.

This is worse than hell.

Because hell at least had fire and demons.

Here?

She was just a corporate slave in a dirt-covered nightmare.

And as she curled up, trying to accept her bug-infested fate, one final thought echoed in her head:

“Screw reincarnation. I WANT A REFUND.”